We’ll never hear Mat Ishbia say it was a mistake. The aggressive, all-in approach he brought with him to the Phoenix Suns. And that’s fine. He doesn’t need to say it. If you’re waiting for the words, you’ll be waiting forever.

This offseason, the actions have spoken louder than any press conference ever could. And those actions — calculated, necessary, and unflinchingly direct — have come via the man now tasked with cleaning up the aftermath: general manager Brian Gregory.

I think back to the middle of last season, when the wheels weren’t just wobbling, they were damn near off. The effort was erratic, the energy disjointed. A team with the league’s highest payroll was sleepwalking toward irrelevance, flirting with missing even the Play-In.

What once looked like a championship blueprint had curdled into something far more frustrating: a cautionary tale. The roster had talent, no question, but it lacked edge, lacked chemistry, and most of all, lacked the will to translate that raw ability into winning basketball.

We were watching the consequences of ambition without cohesion. Now, we’re watching the first real attempt at course correction.

In a league that’s constantly evolving, success now belongs to the young, the energetic, and the relentless. The game moves fast, faster than ever, and those who can’t keep up get left behind.

The Suns, simply put, were old. The second-oldest roster in the NBA, trailing only the Golden State Warriors. And when they faced the league’s rising powers — the youthful, hungry teams built for speed and chaos — the results were damning. Swept by the Thunder. Swept by the Rockets. Time and again, the Suns were run off the floor by fresher legs and hungrier hearts.

Their age didn’t just show; it cost them. It dulled their physicality, weakened their presence at the point of attack, and left them overmatched on the boards night after night. And in the end, they accomplished what once felt unthinkable: they missed the Play-In entirely. A team built to chase a championship never even got the chance to compete for one.

It was a bleak chapter in Phoenix. A season wrapped in heavy expectations, only for those expectations to be laughed off the court with each passing loss. What should have been a contender became a dark comedy. The promise turned parody, and every defeat was another shovel of dirt in the grave of what was supposed to be a golden era.

And now, just a few months later, the course correction has begun.

The Suns have moved on from both Kevin Durant and Bradley Beal, resetting the franchise and reclaiming something that had been lost: flexibility. Will that flexibility translate into wins next season? Probably not. And deep down, we all know that. There’s a penance to be paid for the overreach, for the desperation disguised as ambition that led to the Durant and Beal acquisitions. That penance is time. A season, maybe two, without the illusion of contention, without the burden of championship expectations.

This roster isn’t as talented as the one we saw three months ago. That much is clear. But if the last few seasons have taught us anything, it’s that talent alone isn’t enough. The game is a pendulum, swinging between talent and tenacity, between aging stars and youthful hunger. And for the first time in a long time, the pendulum in Phoenix is swinging back toward effort, energy, youth, and a long-term vision.

And I welcome it. I applaud it. I’m genuinely intrigued to watch this team next season, not because I expect 50 wins or a deep playoff run, but because I believe in what they’re trying to build. If the effort is real, if the identity shifts toward youth and hunger rather than just names on paper, I can live with the losses. Sometimes the hardest path is the right one. And this time, the Suns just might be walking it.

With the departures of 36-year-old Kevin Durant and 32-year-old Bradley Beal, the Phoenix Suns now boast the seventh-youngest roster in the NBA.

The youth movement is officially alive in the Valley. And we all know what that means: youth brings energy, sure, but it also brings mistakes. It brings turnovers, missed assignments, learning curves, and the kind of nights that test your patience as a fan. But it also brings growth. It brings development. It brings a chance to build something real. And for the first time in a while, I’m ready to embrace that.

I’m looking forward to not just watching basketball but to watching these players grow. To root for guys who were drafted here, developed here, and who wear “Phoenix” across their chest with pride. Although I guess we don’t have jerseys that say that anymore. I’d rather invest in that than in another collection of high-priced mercenaries, assembled overnight with no roots and no real identity.

That said, I’m not going to pretend it’ll all be sunshine and highlight reels. I remember the dark days. A full decade with no playoff appearances, where hope was often pinned on young prospects who never quite panned out. Year after year, we told ourselves to trust the process, only to watch it collapse under the weight of poor development and directionless leadership.

But this isn’t the same. This time, the foundation feels different. Devin Booker isn’t a 19-year-old project anymore. He’s a four-time All-Star, a two-time All-NBA selection, and the face of the franchise. That matters. And this time, there’s an owner who’s not afraid to spend. Say what you will about Mat Ishbia, but he’s aggressive, engaged, and willing to do what the last regime wouldn’t: invest in the team.

So no, I’m not bracing for another lost decade. I’m bracing for a rebuild with purpose. And if that rebuild comes with growing pains, so be it. I’ll take the journey over the shortcut. Every time.

We’re at the beginning of a new journey. One I won’t let myself get too carried away with, but one I can allow myself to hope for. And really, that’s the core of fandom, isn’t it? Hope. It’s what sustains us through the highs and the heartbreaks. Every year, every season, we show up because maybe this is the year something special starts to take shape.

There’s no spinning it: the decisions made by this front office in the early days of Mat Ishbia’s tenure were missteps. Bold, brash, and ultimately misguided. He’s paying the price financially. We, as fans, are paying for it emotionally. But at least now, the correction has begun. The pivot away from a flawed philosophy is underway.

And if we can accept that the path forward might not be paved with immediate wins, that there may be growing pains, setbacks, and stretches of ugly basketball, then maybe we can also see the value in the rebuild. Maybe, for the first time in a while, we’re building something sustainable. Something real. And for that, I have hope. Not blind optimism. Not hype. Just quiet, grounded hope that Phoenix is finally on its way back to something that resembles prosperity.

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